AWN’s Cycle of Deployment

We’re about to delve into the really long cycle of deployment that the Department of Defense and psychologists publish. Theirs is very technical with all sorts of stages and fancy words. We here at Army Wife Network put our spin on it to make it simpler.

Stage 1: Predeployment

Freaking out over the thought that you will be spending more than 30 days without your spouse, feeling like you can’t go on, irritated that you have to fill out paperwork and have someone tell you “you’re going to make it” because you don’t care about even thinking about it happening. It’s not fair, you don’t like it, and you’re in denial that he is actually leaving.

Stage 2: Deployment

Holy crap he left. How did that happen? You’re not going to make it. How will you ever survive? Coming home from dropping him off to find his laundry in the hampers, his coffee cup from breakfast on the counter, and change still sitting on the dresser. You won’t move it for weeks. Followed by four days of crying and locking yourself in your bedroom in your pajamas with a box of Oreos, a glass of milk, a stash of tissues, his t-shirt, and some sappy movies. Your life is on hold—you sleep with the phone next to your ear, and the Dominos man knows your order by heart. On day four he calls, and you wake up and realize you haven’t showered in four days. You need to get it together.

Stage 3: Sustainment

You got it together. You’re on a schedule. You found a battle buddy. You can do this. You will do this. You find things to do. You clean up the house and put all his stuff away in its place. You are taking care of the house, the car, the kids, who has time to realize you’re lonely? You start functioning like a well-oiled machine.

Well, for the most part.

There are moments of intense “OH MY GOSH” or “I AM SO ALONE” feelings, like when confronted with a friend whose spouse is home, or a sad song on the radio, or when you miss the one time he gets to call that week. That’s usually about the same time that the washer breaks and floods your floor or one of the kids breaks their leg. But you’re strong, and you know this, and you start counting down the days to R&R.

Stage 4: R&R

Now, this really needs its own pre, during, and post breakdown, don’t you think?

• Pre: Freaking out over him coming home, figuring out how you’re going to get in an appointment for your highlights and waxing between going to the grocery store to find all of his favorite things, cleaning the house, and worrying if he is going to love you the same way as when he left.

• During: Read as Honeymoon or Hell. It’s really depending on the situation and circumstances.

• Post: Repeat Stage 2: Deployment.

Stage 5: Redeployment

Somewhere between pre-R&R and “OH THANK GOD”

You’re thanking your lucky stars he is coming back to you unharmed. You’re worried about how he’ll transition. Will you have to deal with the effects of his deployment? If so, how? What? This time is usually coupled by several vacation or leave plans, an impending PCS, and/or retirement—just to keep you on your toes! Nothing phases you though, you have your service member home. Happy, Happy, Joy!

Stage 6: Postdeployment

Ah, this is about three months later, about the same time you realize that, for the last month, you have given up your “me” time. You developed a schedule during deployment that has been smashed to smithereens, and you haven’t watched The Bachelor or Grey’s Anatomy in weeks. Your children aren’t sure which one of the parents to listen to and have figured out how to pit you against each other. You have spent way too much time with your relatives lately. The impending PCS is getting on your nerves and stressing you out. You start to fall back into a routine that is what is supposed to be “normal,” but who knows what “normal” is, anyway?

Then, you stop and think about how lucky you are to wrap your arms around your service member tonight. You smile when you see your children climbing all over the parent they missed so much. You have a complete family at the dinner table at night. You get to go out on dates. You have someone to help hold and entertain the children. And at 5 p.m. (or 7 or 8 p.m.) you can actually expect to see someone walk in the door.

You realize that “me” time is worth the trade, and also that this is why God gave us DVR.